Legend of Zelda: The Art of Defiance
by Chase Landon
Summary: The legend is altered...in the modern era.
1. Prologue

Legend of Zelda:

The Art of Defiance

Nayru, Din, and Farore. Their decision to leave the fate of the world to a boy garbed in green is the subject of much dispute, especially amongst the esteemed warriors of these ages. Even of greater quarrel, Din's choice to abandon her sisters and reside within an evil one, notorious for evil deeds and bent on hope of leading Hyrule into an evil era. Pure worship to objects deemed unworthy and impure, in this instance the goddesses of Hyrule, is no longer possible to those of a clearer conscience.

Ganondorf has become solely legend now, as has the Hero who was key to his destruction. It is the modern era. Though Hyrule still exists, the landscape has changed, from bronze to steel and water to murk. Trees of concrete rise from the ground several stories, but there are still small gardens in those shabby condos. The sky now is only faintly blue, purged now with black and rust. Now Hyrule is East and West, and war and trenches separate them, newly named Gerud in the East, and Hylia in the West. They have been at war now for four-hundred years, and it is believed that they shall war for a thousand more.


	2. Chapter 1: Jumpstart Revival

Chapter 1:

Jumpstart Revival

"Fourth Battalion Lieutenant Fathom, sir" in brief response to his superior's brief inquiry. Fathom fell subject to his superior's icy scrutiny, which humbled even the fiercest warriors. He quavered a little, which was unfortunately noticeable in the summer. His superior noted this, and smiled, his silver tooth gleaming almost with an evil air. This passed quickly.

"Now, I understand, Lieutenant, that under your charge no men have expired." Fathom stiffened. His superior continued: "Yes, Lieutenant," he spoke as if with a mouthful of hair, "so I inquired into the secrets of your invulnerability…and found this…" He moved his hand toward his belt. Fathom flinched as it neared his superior's buck clipper, a four-barrel shotgun the size of a revolver, and exhaled as it passed towards a small paper bag on his superior's boot, which he could see clearly from where he sat. It sloshed, and Fathom understood its contents. His panic turned quickly from professional. His tan face flushed a shade paler. "So this is what paralyzes our operations, Lieutenant. I have this to thank for the destruction of years worth of advancements."

His superior tore the bag to reach at its contents. His fang glared silver with a hungry passion as he produced a small bottle. The finest liquor in the East. Normally such an object was almost necessary when it came to Gerudo social events, but here it went against Gerudo authority and law. Here it would not be tolerated. Now heat saturated the room, but not the heat from summer. Fathom dropped to the dusty floor in fear, abandoned all logic, and froze his eyes to that daunting silver. His superior continued, with darkness far beyond Hades inflected in his voice. "I will not allow indolence to further permeate _my_ company, Lieutenant Fathom." His breath wrought another torrent of heat, fierce enough to singe the edges of Fathom's coif. Smoke billowed from his superior's nostrils; his pupils shrank to the size of pinheads.

It was over before Fathom could react. The flames reduced him to ashes. Ganondorf resumed his icy stare, his evil smile, and his silver canine, half melted from his indignation, assumed the form of a crescent moon, which added its smile to his own. He managed a brief grunt of satisfaction "it's time we improved our company…"


	3. Chapter 2: The Great Purge

Chapter 2:

The Great Purge

The Fourth Battalion soon was credited another Lieutenant, just before the planned invasion of Jall, a small fortress on the outskirts of Hylia. It was after another not quite so sober celebration that they were confronted with their destiny. Well, it certainly sobered them. After a dreadful morning of harpy headaches and lukewarm antidotes, the group sombered about a rather large run, cut into jerky fragments by rounds of intensive resistance training. That knocked them clean of their gin.

Next it was to the main tent for specific briefing and company division. The assignment was fairly laconic, and the soldiers retired shortly afterwards to their bunkers. However, unforeseen by the oblivious ranks, they soon became part of a different agenda.

Head division scientist La-jal Lombardi was approached during the soldiers' strict regimen, with the same ice that incapacitated Lieutenant Fathom. He was instructed quietly to spike the usual battle serum (an extremely potent stimulant) with a small vial quickly entrusted to him. He knew better than to challenge this authority. The deed was done, and the venerable doctor awaited the next day, when he would witness firsthand the effects of this new drug. This was his only excitement offered in his entire career; he would not deny it.

The soldiers slept well and rose early. They headed out for Jall, brimming with anticipation and adrenaline, the syringes of newly-imparted battle serum strapped to their ammunition belts. The new Lieutenant rode in front, his heavy truck armed for siege. The rest followed in smaller vehicles. All brandished turrets, rifles, and mortars. None predicted what happened next.

Without warning, and still a ways from Jall, the serum ignited. First the Lieutenant's, then the soldiers'. A purple aura seized the men of their garments, purged their souls, and removed even their bare flesh and muscle. Only fragments of calcium littered the dust where the men stood. This instance occupied only a bare moment of time, not enough time to react. Only the doctor remained standing, his posture frozen in confusion.

Yet it was only the beginning of the magic, for the bones began to shake. They shook with the ferocity of wildebeest and the speed of bee wings. But not into ambiguous arrangement did they shake, no, they bound and formed and shifted, two heaps joining to create a third, splitting clockwise into a recognizable pattern, one that shook the lands only in myth and children's tales: Stalfos. This grand army bowed to their leader, which the doctor could now recognize as the donor of the vial himself.

Ganondorf roared out from his makeshift dune pulpit, forcing their attention: "Now on to Jall, satisfy your lusts for blood!" The army creaked and clattered in approval, racing their skeletal figures that never tired, over the dune, rifles and mortars in hand, ever onwards towards their target, one currently oblivious to this frightening development.


End file.
